Punch (52.1867)

January 12, 1867.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

11



I

PROBABLE.

“Hallo, old Boy, you’ve got a bad Cold. How did you get it?”

“ Well, do you know, I think I must have left off my Hat-Band too
soon ! ”

THE MARTYR-BUNG.

Our friends the Licensed Victuallers are always holding meetings for self-
glorification, and for the purpose of declaring that they are the victims of Legisla-
tive oppression. They are perpetually _ defending themselves against some
imaginary danger, and imputing dark designs to the Chancellor of the Ex-
chequer for the time being. That right honourable gentleman, be he who he
may, is supposed by them to lie awake whole nights considering what cruel blow
he can inflict upon the virtuous and noble Victualler, and upon the principle that
it is best to cry out before you are hurt, as it is of no use bellowing afterwards, our
friends may be wise. Sometimes they get a member of Parliament, usually one
who is not much regarded in the House, to preside over their Banquet of Howling,
and it is funny to read how that unfortunate senator tries to reconcile the business
of adulating the Bungs with his own sense of truth and statesmanship.

Lately, however, Mr. Hunch has noticed that a good many hundreds of Victual
lers (who, however, by no means represent the whole class) have taken a method
of obtaining the approbation and admiration of the public, instead of confining
themselves to enthusiastic eulogies on themselves. In the long lists of persons
who have recently been fined for using Ealse Measures, the Licensed Victuallers
have been distinguished. Indeed, they always head the array, and are convicted
in batches. This we deem a proof of the workings of conscience behind the bar.
To adulterate is human, to filch the adulterated liquid is divine. These Witlers,
who doubtless manipulate their liquors after the fashion of their fellow trades-
men, who are thought honest, do something towards .mitigating the evil wrought
by their doctored fluids. They sell as little as they can for the money. In their
banquets let the fact be noted— they rob their customer, but only rob him of the
trash which helps to make him sick indeed.

Yet, we fear, the Licensing Magistrates may not be sufficiently refined to
appreciate this delicacy of sentiment, and on the next application for licences may
examine the list of convictions, and refuse the documents to those who have shown
such tenderness of conscience. Well, the Martyr-Bungs must make the best of'
it, and comfort themselves with past profits.

EUROPE'S CIIRISTMAS-TREE.

Come, each little King and Queen,

Let your reigning business be,
Andgather round the green
Of Europe’s Christmas-tree.

A pretty tree it is.

With a pretty crop of toys,

To irradiate the phiz
Of royal girls and boys.

Here’s a little Papal Bull
Of excommunication,

Which King Victor’s free to pull,
And the whole Italian nation.

Here are -warrants of arrest.

Gift of Queen Isabella,

To her Cortes, by request
Of her priestly Camarilla.

Here’s a conge for King Max,

Erom the hand of Uncle Sam,

Sealed with Imperial wax
By the ex-prisoner of Ham.

Here ’s a broad hint for the Pope
With Rome accounts to square :

And a Papal Zouave, with rope
To hang himself in air.

King "William, here’s your passport
To power—a needle-gun:

Eor the Emperor here A a Chassepot,
Eor the Kaiser ne’er a one.

Here’s a breech-loading, rifled
Ship cannon for John Bull,

Who swears “My Lords” have trifled,
Or he’d have a navy-full.

Eor my little Czar so perky
Here is a tempting prize—

A nice old Christmas Turkey,

^ Devoured by greedy eyes :

Keep back, you little gluttons,

Or, at least, all start fair;

Mind, if you burst your buttons.

You must pay for repair !

Here are rifles, bayonets, sabres,

Eor little Sovereigns prone
To taking from then’ neighbours
And adding to their own.

Here are pretty oaths for breaking.
Like bon-bons sugared fair.

Treaties made for un-making.

And warranted to tear.

Then gather, little Princes,

Round Europe’s Christmas-tree—

He ’ll get most the least who minces.
And in grabbing most makes free.
Peace and goodwill may quake—■

And if they do ’tis well:

What’s peace ?—A thing you break :
And goodwill ?—A thing you sell.

Puseyism and Poetry.

Among the candidates for the vacant Professorship of
Poetry at Oxford, if its tenure were compatible with the
Professorship of Hebrew, a peculiarly proper person would
be Dr. Pusey. Who so fit to fill the Chair once occupied
by Keble as the genius who is credited with the amend-
ment of the Christicm Year ?

seasonable.

The Eloral Hall is open for skating. Anticipating
tumbles, Mr. Hunch makes the witlings a present of a new
name for the building — the Floor-all Hall. (N.B. One
charge for admission: no sliding scale.)

Medical.—We know a young man who is suffering severely from having had
a girl “ thrown at his head.”

Legal Note, by Mrs. Briefless,—Spring Circuits—
Crinolines.